


A Conversation in the Med Tent

by athunderheart



Category: Original Work, Tabletop RPG - Fandom, cortex - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Complete, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athunderheart/pseuds/athunderheart
Summary: Eugene and Luka have a heart-to-heart between battles.





	A Conversation in the Med Tent

Eugene pushed and prodded Luka’s shoulder and upper arm, grabbing the young man’s wrist and rotating the limb backward and forward. 

“Everything looks fine.”

A big grin spread on Luka’s face.

“Great! Does that mean I’m cleared to start training again?”

Eugene stared at him sternly from the stool he sat on opposite Luka.

“You barely have a scratch on you.”

“I’ve been trying really hard to not get injured again-”

“By all accounts, you should be dead,” Eugene cut in.

“What? Why? Am I sick?” Luka asked apprehensively.

“You fought the Red General. And you didn’t just hold your own against him. You beat him. Again. That’s twice now I’ve seen you best him in combat. Once I’d chalk up to luck, but twice…” Eugene trailed off and stood up. His eyes drifted to the scabbard Luka had set down when he entered the medical tent. “And the way you wield that sword. The power you can draw from it-- it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

Luka knelt down and picked up the scabbard by its strap. He held it out to Eugene, thinking he might want to study it closer, but the alchemist hesitated. “They say that blade was carved from a single scale of the Primal Naga,” Eugene said, eyeing the weapon warily. “I’d taken the old stories to be just that - stories - but with everything we’ve seen these past few months, I think it’s worth investigating.” Another furtive glance at the elaborate sheath. “Soon, but not today. Thank you.”

Luka leaned the sword against a chair and began collecting the outer layers of clothing he’d shed for the check-up. 

“It’s not just the sword though. The first time you faced Roa, you did so with a mundane weapon. Your talent with a blade is extraordinary.”

Luka shrugged on his undershirt. “I don’t know about that.”

“Where did you learn to fight? The way I understand it, you had no formal training before Lord Jaris.”

“Yev taught me.”

“Is that a sibling?”

“No. Sort of. The closest thing I had to one I guess.”

“Ah, so you’re an only child as well.”

“I… I don’t know.” Luka paused and then sheepishly pulled his gambeson over his head. Eugene had seen him fumble through conversation before, but this was a different kind of stumbling. Quieter and more melancholy. “I really don’t remember my family. I don’t think I had any brothers or sisters.”

Eugene turned away for a moment, absent-mindedly wrapping up some medical supplies on a nearby table and setting them in his kit.

“Luka, I haven’t really tried to get to know you, have I?”

The young knight felt his freckled cheeks growing warm. _ No, you haven’t,  _ he wanted to shout. The alchemist had made up his mind about Luka seemingly from the moment he laid eyes on him in Bosk. Eugene’s words to him had been scarce since his haphazard induction to the Vranovan court, but the alchemist’s tone had made his opinion clear; he thought Luka rash. Foolish. Naive.

Now his voice was soft and apologetic. It made Luka’s head spin. 

“I guess not, but a lot’s happened since Bosk, so I understand.”

He finished snapping the buttons around his collar and waited. It wasn’t clear if this exchange was finished or if the alchemist had more to say. His gaze was still averted from Luka.

Finally, Eugene did turn and approach him. He stood several inches taller than the knight, and as he peered down, Luka couldn’t help but wonder if he’d always been this tall.

“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for saving Princess Yula,” he said. “I may not always agree with your approach, but I’ve been unfair in my judgment of you, given everything you’ve done for her. She… she is very precious to me - to all of us. If she believes in you, I will try harder to do the same.”

Luka just stared for a moment, mouth unconsciously smiling and eyes nervously shifting. Was this a compliment? Was he free to go? Should he say something back?

“Th-thank you. I mean, you’re welcome, ser. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine. Come. Sit.” Eugene waved toward a crate with his hand and sat across from it. “Time to rectify this. Tell me about yourself.”

The brief flame of exuberance Luka had felt at the alchemist's sudden warmth faltered at the thought of an extended encounter. The last time he’d spent more than a few minutes alone with Eugene, the knight had ended up in the dirt on the losing side of a duel. Still, he acquiesced and stiffly plopped down on the makeshift seat.

“I don’t come from a fancy family or anything-”

Eugene grimaced.

“If I had a gold piece for every talented person this country’s thrown away because they weren’t noble-blooded enough,” he sneered. Luka paused, a little dumbfounded and unsure of how he should respond. Was he expected to respond at all?

“Probably a lot I bet.”

“What?”

“If you had a gold piece for everyone who wasn’t noble-blooded. You’d probably have a lot of gold pieces,” Luka explained. Eugene stared at him.

“Yes.” Another pause. “You know I come from Myrkos, I assume?”

Luka rubbed his neck.

“I think I knew that, yeah.”

“In Myrkos, prizing bloodlines above all else is seen as archaic.” He stopped as Luka wrinkled his nose, a confused look settling on his face. Eugene felt his derision rising, but instead pictured the smiling countenance of the princess and pushed through.  _ Be kind. _ “Old-fashioned. A waste of time. We think anyone can achieve great things if given the right resources.”

“That sounds nice,” Luka replied. 

“They aren’t as understanding here in Vranova, as I’m sure you well know.” Eugene sighed. “What I mean to say is, you and I have that in common. I may not be able to sway others’ opinions of you given my own blood, but I can do my best to help you where I can. As repayment for what you’ve done for the princess.”

Luka felt a buzzing in his head. To hear the prickly alchemist offer niceties was dizzying.

“What about your friend? Yev? Are they still in Bosk?” Eugene asked.

Luka shook his head slowly.

“Maybe. After what happened with Lord Jaris and the fires all over town, I don’t know. Do you think he...” Luka trailed off, curling his fists on his knees. Eugene set his jaw, tentatively flexed his hand, and then put it on the young knight’s shoulder.

“If he’s as hard to kill as you, I’m sure he stayed out of harm’s way.”

Luka managed a weak smile.

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Even if it was coming out of nowhere, the unexpected reassurance from Eugene was a welcome change. The effort of constantly trying to both impress and avoid the alchemist was exhausting, and now he could finally take a breath.

“If you like, we could dispatch a team to try and locate him, let him know where you can be found?”

Luka’s eyes widened.

“You could do that?”

Eugene smiled in spite of himself. This young man was so damn earnest. 

“I can’t promise that anything will come of it, but our network is very good at finding people. If you give me as many details as you can, I’ll pass them along to Mavra and-”

Luka stood suddenly, startling the alchemist.

“No.” 

“No what?”

Luka shook his head. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think that’s what I want. I’ve seen how Mavra treats people, and I- It’s not a good idea. I’m sorry.”

Seeing Yev alive and well would be a dream come true, but he didn’t trust that woman to return his friend safely to him. He hadn’t forgotten Lyov in shackles or the fearful look in Polina’s eyes, and that was all because of Mavra. Even if it had been to survive, Yev was a criminal, and Mavra was not kind to those who didn’t fit within her idea of the law. Luka couldn’t take that chance.

Eugene looked down at the floor for a moment. To have his olive branch snapped so thoroughly was unexpected. He’d spent so many years priding himself on his stony exterior and ability to deflect extraneous acquaintances. How long would it take to show others that he could be something more?

He thought of Mavra as well. He had to remind himself that the cunning and coolness he admired in her was a double-edged blade, one that she had used on others countless times, including him. 

“I… I understand your apprehension,” Eugene said as he slowly stood up and walked to the tent opening, pushing the flap aside to show Luka he was free to go. “If there’s anything else you need, I hope you will let me know.”

Luka lingered for a few seconds before he finally spoke again.

“Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate what you meant by it. And there might not be anything you can do to make people see past what I’m not.” He walked toward Eugene, looking at his profile even though the alchemist would not meet his eye. “I just- even if people aren’t always friendly about me coming from nothing, I’m used to that. The princess has already done so much for me. New clothes, a title, a sword. And Potato and me get three meals a day and then some.” 

He gestured toward the tent opening and Eugene looked down to see a scruffy brown dog poking its head through the door flap, whining softly. “If people think I’m dirt,” Luka continued, “I’ll show ‘em they’re wrong. The princess believes in me. And Lady Elisandre too. I’m gonna be a great knight.”

He waited, hoping that the alchemist would meet his gaze. A few long moments passed. Luka finally stepped out into the camp, and just as he did, Eugene spoke.

“I’ve no doubt you will, Ser Luka.” 

Luka turned around and broke into a grin. Eugene held eye contact with the knight for the briefest second and then dropped the tent flap. 

Tiny though it was, a seed of understanding was growing between them. Luka’s stride was long and cheerful as he crossed back to his quarters with Potato loping beside him. 


End file.
